If Otis and Murray don't get to the beach at least once a day, Hubs and I are forced to put up with two little grumps, so before work today, we take them across the street and down onto the soft sand. Due to swirling winds somewhere north of here, the waves are unusually large and surge high onto the dunes. Five or six nuns stand in their habits near the edge of the surf, picking up their skirts and running inland while each wave rushes over their shoes and wets their hems. We walk the opposite direction, imagining the havoc Murray would cause in a group of nuns.
An hour later, we take our panting pooches back to the Airstream and get ready for "work."
The weather has been uncharacteristically lovely for the past two weeks, and the masses are here to see the lighthouse. Up and down, up and down, round and round the spiral staircase I go.
Giving tours is fun, but I love when the yard is full of dogs. While pets aren't allowed in the buildings, many people bring dogs up to the overlook area, and I spend a good portion of my non-tour time meeting happy dogs and their owners.
Enormous waves collide with the cliffs causing thunderous reverberations, and by late afternoon a gentle rain soaks our shoulders while we watch for sea lions.
Back at home, the campground host comes over to inform us of a bonfire and social hour. Most of our fellow lighthouse hosts are there and entertain us with stories of camp-hosting mishaps and stories from their past employed lives.